


The More Boys I Meet

by e_katara



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M, i just needed to write a cute happy minty-centric fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 16:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3657309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_katara/pseuds/e_katara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between his spectacularly bad luck when it comes to dating and his annoying new neighbor, Monty is done with men. Well, he wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hannah Montana

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is loosely inspired by the Carrie Underwood song "More Boys I Meet"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some burly, muscular guy was standing next to a motorcycle, talking to the guy parked next to him with the pickup truck that was loaded with boxes. They both grabbed one of the boxes before heading into the building. Monty remembered that his new neighbor was supposed to be moving in today, and he wondered which one it was going to be. The tall one from the pickup with the curly hair, or the muscular one with the close shaved head and the scruffy jaw, the one who rode the motorcycle. Some small part of him wanted it to be the latter - he was handsome in a rugged sort of way, exactly the type of guy Monty had always secretly had a thing for, but most of him wished it was neither. After all, good looking men had been nothing but trouble for him, lately.

"So, how was the date last night?"

"Do you hate me?"

She paused. "That bad, huh?"

"Yeah, that bad. Jesus, what were you thinking, Clarke? That guy was a total tool. All he wanted was a quick hook up. And he was real creepy about it too."

"God, Monty, I'm sorry. He always seemed nice when I talked to him at work," she said, and he couldn't really stay mad at her. She was just trying to help, and, considering that she made a conscious effort to find time to try to help him with his love life while simultaneously trying to complete her medical internship, she did deserve to be cut a bit of slack.

"It's fine. I appreciate the thought, I do. But maybe stop trying to set me up, y'know? At least, not with anyone you don't know very well."

"That's fair," she said. "I'll stop trying to play matchmaker unless I know there's a real chance."

"Thank you. By the way, last night was your first date with "the Commander", right? How'd that go?"

Clarke groaned. "It went extremely well in the sense where she was beautiful and amazing and perfect, but, unfortunately, I am a massive loser, and I was super awkward and flustered by everything about her, and she'll probably never call me again ever." 

Monty rolled his eyes. Clarke always thought she was being awkward when anyone else would have told her she was being adorable. He gave it three days before they had another date.

They talked for a little longer, mostly about Monty's monumental bad luck with dating, before her lunch break was up and she had to get back to work.

 

"Hannah," he called softly after putting tossing his phone onto the counter. His husky perked up at her name, then sprinted from across the apartment and jumped on him, tackling him to the ground and licking his face. He laughed and let her nuzzle him. She was one of the few bright constants in his world. After every bad day, every bad date, he could come home, and Hannah would still be there, happy to see him, ready to shower him with cuddles and affection. He sat up and continued petting her when she plopped herself down happily across his lap.

That was when he heard the motorcycle outside.

He stood up, ignoring Hannah's whine at being dethroned, and glanced out the window. Some burly, muscular guy was standing next to a motorcycle, talking to the guy parked next to him with the pickup truck that was loaded with boxes. They both grabbed one of the boxes before heading into the building. Monty remembered that his new neighbor was supposed to be moving in today, and he wondered which one it was going to be. The tall one from the pickup with the curly hair, or the muscular one with the close shaved head and the scruffy jaw, the one who rode the motorcycle. Some small part of him wanted it to be the latter - he was handsome in a rugged sort of way, exactly the type of guy Monty had always secretly had a thing for, but most of him wished it was neither. After all, good looking men had been nothing but trouble for him, lately.

When he heard the commotion in the hall, he opened his door, leaning against the frame.

The tall one glanced over at him. "You live there?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, Miller, come say hi to your new neighbor."

The other one walked over slowly, and shit, Monty was so screwed. He had muscular arms, one of which was highlighted by a tattoo (one of those ones that wraps all the way around the arm a couple times - Monty almost audibly whimpered at that, because Jesus) and a friendly smile plastered across his (annoyingly handsome) face. "Hey. I'm Nathan Miller. You can call me Miller, if you want. Everyone else does," he said, reaching out a hand for Monty to shake.

"Green. M-Monty. Monty Green," he stammered, reaching out and he grabbed that big hand that was attached to that strong arm that went with that gorgeous face, and he shook it weakly, and that was the precise moment that Hannah chose to run into the hall and start yapping at the new faces. "Hannah! No! Stop it!"

She didn't, barking angrily at the tall guy, whose face was frozen into some combination of fear and amusement.

Exasperated, Monty grabbed her collar. "Hannah Montana, you stop that right now!"

He got her back into the apartment and was about to retreat when Miller's voice stopped him. "Hannah... Montana?" He'd arched a brow and was grinning and god, no one should just get to look like that.

Monty felt his cheeks heat. _Fuck._ "It's, uh, it's her full name. I lost a bet to my friend, who had just spent a weekend marathoning Hannah Montana..."

"Is your friend a ten year old girl?"

"Unfortunately, no. Uh, good luck with, y'know, the moving in and whatnot. I've, uh, got some things to do."

"Alright," Miller grinned. "See you around, Monty Green. And you too," he added, leaning over Monty's shoulder to talk to the dog who was watching the scene curiously, "Hannah Montana."

Monty closed the door behind him and looked at the dog. "You couldn't have just listened, could you?" She walked over and nuzzled her face into his hand, her way of saying "absolutely not".


	2. Neighbor from Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who do you think you're kidding, Clarke? You didn't have to say a damn thing. The way you stammered the other day when she surprised you for that lunch date said everything for you." Raven put on the mock high voice she always used to tease Clarke, and clutched at her chest. "Oh, my goodness, Lexa! You're here. Oh! This is Raven - well, I guess you know Raven don't you, ha ha."
> 
> Monty decided to pitch in. "And this is Monty," he squeaked. "We were, uh, just about to head out to lunch, and... Oh, you wanted to go to lunch with me? Oh, god, this is so embarrassing, I just look like such a mess, oh my goodness Lexa, you're so attractive, your arms are so strong, oh, hold me, please, and never let me -" His mockery was cut off as she started pelting him with peanuts from the bowl that was on the bar in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing their friendship dynamics okay I can't help myself.

"He ordered for me."

"Nooooooo," Raven groaned. "That's a literal nightmare of mine. I wake up some nights in a cold sweat, muttering 'I didn't want the chicken. I didn't want the chicken'."

Raven's theatrics elicited their usual eye roll from Monty. "Ha ha. Very funny. Really, I've got a cramp from laughing so hard," he deadpanned.

Clarke shook her head. "You think she's joking, but she's not. That has actually happened. Like, on multiple occasions. It's ridiculous."

"Why am I not surprised?" He turned to the glass in front of him and saw it was empty. "Hey, excuse me? Wells?" He turned from the other end of the bar to glance at them. Monty smiled weakly. "Can I get a refill, please?"

"You know you don't have to say 'excuse me' and 'please' every time you want another beer, right, Monty?"

"Shut up, Wells. _My_ parents raised me to be polite."

When his glass was once again full, Wells was distracted by more people with drink orders at the other end of the bar, and their conversation resumed.

"Honestly, why do you keep agreeing to these dates Jasper sets up for you? They're always like, super extra awful, aren't they?"

"It's... Complicated," he sighed.

"No it's not," Clarke snorted. "Look, Raven, here's how Jasper works. There are two kinds of dates he might set you up on. The first type is a variety of random individuals he has met upon which someone could easily base a handbook on how not to behave on dates. He literally just sets you up with someone awful because he thinks it's funny. The second is amazing. Like, perfect first date, almost guaranteed to be the start of a really, really great relationship. The problem is, there's literally no way to know which it will be until you're actually on the date."

"Huh. I think I've gotta spend some more time around Jasper. The two of us could cause some serious trouble."

"Do you see that smirk, Clarke? That one, right there. The evil one. _That's_ why I didn't explain it to her. Because now, you've gone and given her an idea. And I mean I know you've found the girl of your dreams and all that," her cheeks flushed, "but some of us are still searching! And I've already got Jasper fucking with me, I don't need Raven to be doing it, too."

"I never said Lexa was the girl of my dreams," Clarke muttered, biting her lip. Her cheeks grew steadily pinker as he and Raven watched.

"Who do you think you're kidding, Clarke? You didn't have to say a damn thing. The way you stammered the other day when she surprised you for that lunch date said everything for you." Raven put on the mock high voice she always used to tease Clarke, and clutched at her chest. "Oh, my goodness, Lexa! You're here. Oh! This is Raven - well, I guess you know Raven don't you, ha ha."

Monty decided to pitch in. "And this is Monty," he squeaked. "We were, uh, just about to head out to lunch, and... Oh, you wanted to go to lunch with me? Oh, god, this is so embarrassing, I just look like such a mess, oh my goodness Lexa, you're so attractive, your arms are so strong, oh, hold me, please, and never let me -" His mockery was cut off as she started pelting him with peanuts from the bowl that was on the bar in front of her.

"Shut up! Both of you. God. I didn't say anything about her _holding_ me."

"No, but you were staring at her arms and definitely muttered something about how strong she must be." 

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, yes, you do," Raven smirked. "Because you turned bright fucking red and squeaked like a mouse, before apologizing and saying 'Sorry! Just take me now. Shit. I meant take me to lunch now. Let's go to lunch now'."

Clarke was inspecting her fingernails closely. "There's no way you can conclusively prove that I said that."

Wells walked over. "Hey, guys, I'm taking off early tonight. There's a new guy who's going to take over for me... Bellamy something. He just got in, so I'm heading out. See you around." They all said their goodbyes, and he paused for a moment. "By the way, they might not have proof of you tripping over your words the other day, but there is definitely security footage of when you two came here the other night and you literally tripped and fell into Lexa's lap."

Clarke buried her face in her arms as Monty's jaw dropped.

"Oh my god. Really, Clarke? Oh my _god_."

"Wells, dude, you've gotta get us that footage," Raven called to his retreating form.

"We'll see."

Fiver minutes later, Clarke was still trying (unsuccessfully) to get them to stop talking about her awkwardness around Lexa, when someone said, "Monty? Uh, Green?"

He looked up towards the voice. It was the new bartender. He was tall, and freckled, with dark, curly hair, and Monty immediately recognized him. "Uh, you're... What's his name, Miller? You're his friend. And I guess you're Bellamy something?" Yeah, Monty's was faking not knowing Miller's name (he'd heard it moaned through the walls more than enough times for it to stick in his head), but he needed to play it cool. No one could know about his horribly inconvenient crush on his loud, obnoxious, promiscuous, annoyingly hot new neighbor.

"Uh. Yes, but I never told you my name."

Monty started stammering before Clarke cut in and saved his ass. "The guy on shift before you, Wells, is a friend of ours. He mentioned your name," she smiled, reaching a hand across the bar. "I'm Clarke, this is Monty and Raven. We're here a lot, so you might as well get to know us."

He gripped her hand with a small smile. "Alright, then, nice to meet you. I guess you already know I'm Bellamy. Can I get you guys anything?"

"Your phone number," Raven said with a grin.

"Woah, woah, woah. I have to approve anyone getting Bellamy's phone number," a deep voice said from behind them.

"Hey Mill, Octavia, glad you made it."

His new neighbor lifted himself onto the stool next to his. "Hey, Bell. Howdy, neighbor," he added to Monty with a smirk. "Fancy seeing you here, huh?"

"Yeah. Fancy that."

"Wait. Wait. Neighbor? Monty, this is your new neighbor?" Raven asked, shaking his arm.

"Uh... No. Not my neighbor. Definitely not," he said, hoping against all hope that Bellamy and Miller would catch the hint and play along.

No such luck. "What? Not your...Monty, are you ashamed to live next door to me?" Milled asked, feigning hurt.

Monty's shoulders slumped in defeat as Raven's eyes lit up. "You're the new neighbor. You."

"Yeah, what of it? Has Monty been talking about me?"

"Oh, my god, it's like today is my birthday or something. We finally, finally get to meet the "neighbor from hell". Monty, you never told us he was cute. Oh my god."

The girl next to Miller, who Monty hadn't even noticed until now, spoke up. "Neighbor from hell?"

"Oh, boy, settle in, because I've got some stories for you."

Bellamy tugged at his shirt collar. "Y'know, I think I hear people over there who want refills, so I'm just going to, uh, go do that." Clarke picked up her glass and started inspecting it carefully, and the girl on Miller's other side leaned in closer, pushing Miller closer to him until their shoulders were touching.

"Wait, real quick what's your name?"

"Octavia. I'm Bellamy's little sister and his and Miller's conscience."

Miller looked affronted. "I object to th -"

"I'm Raven," an arm extended, a quick handshake, and then she started talking. "So, apparently, your friend is like, the worst neighbor ever. First, whenever he watches TV or plays music, he does it super super loud."

"Sounds like him. What else?"

"Other than that, he drives a motorcycle, which like, wouldn't be that bad, if he didn't have a habit of coming and going like either super late or super early, and waking up our dear, dear Monty here, who is a very, very delicate sleeper. And then there's the whole sex thing."

"Sex thing?" Miller and Octavia asked at the same time.

Raven nodded. "Monty here says he brings dates home like, all the time, and it's always really, _really_ loud. And sometimes Monty has to meet them the next morning and he has to pretend that he doesn't already kind of hate them for disrupting his sleep or drowning out his Scrubs marathon. He told us that sometimes, when he's really annoyed by it, he throws his shoes at the wall."

Miller choked. " _That's_ what that loud thud is?"

"Yeah," Monty muttered, gratified to see that the other guy at least looked a little bit embarrassed. "Hey, Raven?"

"Yeah, Monty?"

"You're the worst friend ever."

She scoffed. "No I'm not. That's Jasper. He's the one who intentionally sends you on bad dates, and who made you name your dog Hannah Montana."

He pulled a face at her, and she smiled unrepentantly.

"Bellamy?"

He glanced over from the conversation he'd been having with Clarke while Raven was storytelling. "What's up?"

"I'm going to need another beer. Actually, just keep them coming?"

"Damn it," he said, grabbing a five dollar bill out of his pocket and handing it to Clarke, who smiled innocently.

"What the hell, Clarke?"

She shrugged. "It was an easy five bucks. I bet him that whatever stories Raven was telling would make you want to get drunk."

"Profiting off of my misery?"

"Always," she chirped brightly. Damn her.

It was going to be a long fucking night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke are bros. Like, I just imagine them falling into a very easy comfortable friendship when not introduced to each other in a highly stressful and/or unpleasant manner. 
> 
> Also, true friends always engage in a bit of occasional schadenfreude. Raven, Jasper, and Octavia all just tend to take that to extremes.


	3. Chapter 3

"What was wrong with this one? You chose him yourself! You talked to him before, on OkCupid, right? And said he seemed like you two would get along?"

"He wore Crocs, Jasper."

"A practical and comfortable brand of shoe! I own several pairs myself."

Monty rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and I don't want to date you either, Jas."

"That, my good friend, is your loss," Jasper said, flipping his hair dramatically and lowering his goggles over his eyes. " _I_ am what you might call 'a catch'."

"That's one word for it." Before his friend could argue, Monty continued. "Anyways, you're not here to talk about my failed lunch date. We have serious business to attend to."

Jasper nodded seriously. "Do you have the crown?"

"Of course. Hannah!"

She trotted from the bedroom, a huge, ridiculous, and, above all, _obviously_ cheap crown of fake, multicolored daisies. Monty had spent an hour and a half the day before trying to teach her to walk with the crown on her head, and it looked like she had it coming around the couch. Then, she saw Jasper and took off at a run, the crown flying back off her head as she tackled him. Monty groaned and went to grab the crown from where it fell on the floor.

"Damn dog."

"You're just bitter because Hannah loves me almost as much as she loves you."

"I can't imagine why. You're the reason she's stuck with the name Hannah Montana," Monty said, rolling his eyes.

Jasper gently nudged her off of him, turning on the TV and the Wii. "You say 'stuck', I say 'blessed'. Anyways, it's time for us to get serious."

It was their monthly Mario Kart showdown, a tradition that they'd started in college. They'd chosen not to be roommates, so they could "meet new people" or some nonsense like that. It was a bad idea. Between classes, work, and living in different dorms, the two of them never got to see each other. So they'd decided that once a month, they would set aside a night to play Mario Kart. It became a competition after maybe the third or fourth time they did did it. Winner got to decorate the loser's door however they chose, and the loser had to leave it up for a month. After the seventh time, they decided it would be a tradition. No matter what, once a month, they would play Mario Kart. The winner still got to decorate the loser's door, although, since they now lived in apartment buildings, not college dorms, Monty had insisted that the decorations could not be obscene or explicit, because kids could totally walk by. Jasper objected to the rule, of course, on the grounds that it was "limiting" and being exposed to weird shit would be "character building" for children. Monty disagreed.

The crown was a relatively new addition. They went to a party about a year ago and somehow came out of it with a flower crown, and Jasper immediately decided that they needed to incorporate it into the Mario Kart tradition. So now, the winner got the crown, and had to wear it while hanging out in public at least two times during their reign as champion.

They settled onto opposite ends of the couch, Hannah hopping up and settling herself between them, and they were just about to begin when they heard it.

A distinctly feminine voice, moaning. Loudly.

Jasper jumped. Monty groaned.

"Not again."

"Oh my god. Is this - This is what you were talking about, right? Your new neighbor and the loud sex?"

"Yeah. Just ignore it."

That's what they did. Or, at least they tried to do that. It was hard to focus on Maple Treeway when someone was screaming in ecstasy on the other side of the wall. It was even harder to focus when the screams gave way to rhythmic thumping, like, the sound of a bed frame crashing into a wall repeatedly, accompanied by low grunts and loud, extremely persistent, high pitched squeals and moans.

Before Monty could even realize what happened, Jasper paused the game and leapt to his feet and raced over to the wall and was slamming his fist against it.

"There are other people in this building, who have important things they need to do," he said, loudly. "If you wanna have sex, whatever. More power to you! Orgasms are great! But Jesus Christ, be quiet!"

Monty buried his face in his hands. He could not, would not watch while his best friend stood there and yelled at the wall he shared with his hot new neighbor, who was in the middle of having sex.

The sounds on the other side of the wall stopped, and were quickly replaced with muted voices. Then, a door slammed. They were about to start playing again when they heard another slam, followed by pounding, this time on Monty's door.

"It's open," Monty called from where he sat on the couch, elbow on his knee and his face buried in the palm of his hand. He heard footsteps, but couldn't bring himself to look up. "Hey, Miller."

"What the hell was that?"

Monty was about to respond, but Jasper spoke up. "Hey. Miller, is it? I'm Jasper. I'm Monty's best friend, and I'm the one who just yelled at you."

"Why would you do that?"

Jasper scoffed, and Monty finally looked up. He saw his pale, gangly friend squaring off against Miller, who was shorter, but more muscular and just generally more intimidating. It was definitely a sight to see.

"Are you seriously asking me that, man? Seriously? That wall is not sound proofed!"

Miller blushed. "Still, that doesn't mean you can just yell at the wall and ruin a whole night!"

"I don't see why not. That's basically what your 'friend' was doing."

An awkward silence fell after that, because he was kind of right. That wasn't exactly what had been happening, but from their side of the wall, it might as well have been.

"Sorry."

"Hey, don't apologize to me. I've only been treated to the show once."

Miller stuck his hands in his back pockets and turned to face Monty where he still sat on the couch. "Sorry, man."

"Whatever. It's no big deal."

"It kind of is though. I've been like, really inconsiderate, and that's not okay."

Monty waved him off awkwardly. He didn't want Miller's apologies, he didn't want the scene Jasper caused, he just wanted to sleep. He assured Miller that really, it was fine, water under the bridge, and all that and ushered him out of the apartment. Then, he asked Jasper of they could postpone Mario Kart night, just this once. 

"Yeah. Shit, man, I'm so sorry. I forgot how much you hated confrontation. It was just so rude of him to do that."

Monty shrugged him off. "We're good. Just, next time you're going to pick a fight, especially on my behalf, consult me first."

Jasper nodded.

"Actually, you know what? Just don't pick fights, Jas. Ever," he said, grinning broadly. "You'll just get your ass kicked, like you're going to in Mario Kart tomorrow night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm with Monty. Crocs are a dealbreaker. Absolutely.


	4. Make it a Sitcom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We should move in together, make it a sitcom. Two gay ass losers angsting over their difficult to read crushes," she said, laughing.
> 
> He considered it for a moment. "Dude, I'd watch the hell out of that show."
> 
> "Right?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some insight into miller's point of view.
> 
> miller is a hoe of opportunity btw.

He really, really needed to learn some self control. Or at least find some way to spend his nights that wasn't either passing out at nine forty five or having sex with someone he barely knew. He wasn't twenty two anymore, bunking in some shitty, run down, isolated house with Bellamy that they didn't have to pay rent on because they were helping fix it up. He lived in an apartment now. With neighbors, and dogs, and paper thin walls that didn't do much in terms of blocking off sound.

The noise thing, though, it wasn't his fault. It really, really wasn't. The blame was on his parents, really, for raising him to be so considerate. They were the ones who taught him to treat others the way they wanted to be treated. When that ideology is applied to sex, well, that generally meant that his partners had a very, very, very good time. Him? Not as much. He had fun, sure. Sex was a fun thing, and it definitely felt good, but, unfortunately, none of his partners were ever quite as concerned with his pleasure as he was with theirs. So, y'know, he'd get them off a few times, get himself off, they'd either leave or crash, and then he'd never see them again. Well, in most cases.

A few of them were kind of...groupies? It was weird, honestly, that he had groupies. They weren't strictly _his_ groupies, of course, but it was uncomfortable all the same. The other guys referred to them as "ringers" - girls who hung around the ring, hoping to hook up with fighters. He didn't like calling them that. For one thing, it was sort of sexist and objectifying and just incredibly childish. For another, it was frustratingly unimaginative. If there was one thing Nathan Miller firmly believed, it was that if you were going to be an asshole, the _least_ you could do was be witty about it. He'd actually struck up something of a friendship with a couple of the ringers. It happened in a weird way - a couple years back, he'd dated this girl Harper for like, two months. They broke it off because they just weren't good together romantically, but the breakup was friendly. It turned out, her cousin, Jamie, was a ringer. Jamie invited Harper to see a match one time, and, well, the rest was history. He talked to her and her friends every now and then, and they were actually pretty cool, once they cut it with the creepy hero worship thing that they did whenever they talked to the fighters. But other than the two or three of them that he'd slept with before they became friends, he never really saw people he had sex with again. Except for that one time he'd made the mistake of hooking up with one of the other fighters. That... That one definitely got awkward. Having to beat up a dude after seeing his 'O' face was weird as hell.

Aside from that, though, it was all pretty anonymous. People came to watch a fight, they'd talk to him afterwards, one thing led to another, and he was in bed again. And, since he was in bed, he was obviously he was going to make sure his partner had a good time, which brought him back to the noise. And the walls. And his neighbor. His adorable neighbor, with an obnoxious best friend and a dog named Hannah Montana.

Monty Green was... Well, he was taking up way, way too much space in Miller's mind, lately, to be perfectly honest. He wasn't sure why. Quiet, awkward, and shy had never really been his type, but something about him was just - well, he didn't really have a word for what it was. All Miller knew was that Monty was really, really cute, and really, really difficult to read. That was probably the source of his interest, truth be told. Most people were open books, in his experience. Everything they were thinking, everything they were feeling could be figured out by watching their face or listening to them speak. But Monty... There were some things that were easy to read. It was obvious when he was nervous, or flustered, or what have you. But there was always something else going on underneath those things, and that's what Miller could never put his finger to, and that bugged him.

It could be that he was losing his touch. For one thing, his best friends were the Blakes, who were, well... Very expressive. They wore their hearts on their sleeves, their souls shined out of their eyes - in short, they were about as hard to read as Goodnight Moon. Between the two of them, the other fighters, and the fans, Miller never really had the opportunity to interact with anyone who wasn't so open with their thoughts and their feelings. Maybe that accounted for why he couldn't totally understand his neighbor.

But he couldn't be thinking about that now. He had a new client coming in that morning, and he really had to get to work. If he could have gone back in time and punched himself in the face for scheduling an appointment at five forty five in the morning that day, he would have, but that wasn't an option, and really, how was he supposed to know he'd have a hard time sleeping that night. It wasn't exactly like you could plan _coitus interruptus_ , or being too tired afterwards to do anything about it. Between the blue balls and the humiliation of his neighbor's friend berating him for his sexual habits, sleep hadn't come easy.

For now, he was sitting at the edge of the ring, leaning over the ropes while fighting the urge to yawn as he waited for the client to show. It was some firefighter chick who'd just said something about wanting to know how to fight. She wouldn't say why, over the phone. He'd asked, and she ignored his question, told him she'd see him at their appointment, and hung up. 

The door opened, and a girl with honey colored hair and wild, intelligent eyes walked in, knuckles wrapped.

"Nathan Miller?"

He nodded, arched a brow. "Lexa...Last name unknown?"

"I don't have a last name. Like Drake. Or Oprah," she said with a wry grin.

"Really?"

"As far as you know."

Well. Alright then. "Fair enough. You ready to start?"

She nodded.

A half hour later, he called for a break, because Jesus Christ, the girl was about to break his fucking hands, even through the pads. They took seats in opposing corners, watching each other warily as they drank water and caught their breath.

"So. Either you've got a long standing vendetta against focus mitts, or you're mad about something."

She huffed out an amused breath. "Neither. I'm just frustrated right now. Kinda confused, I guess."

"You wanna talk about it?" Yeah, they didn't know each other, but sometimes strangers made the best confidantes. No judgment, no consequences, just venting.

"It's nothing. Just this girl I'm seeing."

Miller stood and walked over to sit next to her. "Hold up, wait. I'm great at the whole commiserating shit. What are we going for, here? Does she suck? You like her, but she's just not that into you? She cheating or something?"

Lexa actually laughed, and Miller was proud, because she didn't seem like the kind of person who laughed often. She shook her head. "Nothing like that. I really like her, and I'm pretty sure she really likes me, too - especially considering how nervous she gets around me - but I don't know how serious she is about, well... Me. Us. And I can't figure her out, and it's bugging the hell out of me."

"Oof. That's rough. I'm in the same boat. Well, no, I'm not. Not in the same boat. At all, really. But it's kinda similar. Sort of. Anyways, I've got this new neighbor. Cutest guy I've ever seen - shy, smart, funny, all that - but I can't tell what he's thinking, so I don't know how to be around him, and it's a headache and a half."

"We should move in together, make it a sitcom. Two gay ass losers angsting over their difficult to read crushes," she said, laughing.

He considered it for a moment. "Dude, I'd watch the hell out of that show."

"Right? We should call CBS. Or like, the CW or something. Make some money off of this."

"Good idea," he laughed. "Let's work on the pilot episode while you work on controlling your punches. Deal?"

"Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lexa and miller as best bros?? lexa and miller. best bros. forever. i love it.

**Author's Note:**

> Because it's absolutely a fact that Jasper occasionally marathons Disney Channel shows for funsies.


End file.
